


i don't want to set the world on fire

by craftingdead



Series: charlie will make cd a common tag if it kills them [34]
Category: The Crafting Dead
Genre: Awkward Conversations, Blood and Gore, Drinking, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-17
Updated: 2019-07-17
Packaged: 2020-06-29 21:50:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19839196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/craftingdead/pseuds/craftingdead
Summary: “Ah, Doctor.” The man had a smile that crinkled and reached his eyes, firm wrinkles implanted into his face from years of smiling. “Come in, come in! It’s so nice to see you, even if this visit is unexpected.”





	i don't want to set the world on fire

**Author's Note:**

> i don't want to set the world on fire - the ink spots

“Ah, Doctor.” The man had a smile that crinkled and reached his eyes, firm wrinkles implanted into his face from years of smiling. “Come in, come in! It’s so nice to see you, even if this visit is unexpected.”

“Mr. Richardson.” Ross nodded to him, stepping into his house. It was well furnished, pale colors glittering from the walls and ceilings. A chandelier hung in the middle, surrounded on both sides by sprawling staircases. Ross ran his hand along a mahogany desk, pictures of Richardson’s success, his family, his childhood. One stood out—a polaroid of him golfing with his father. Ross removed his hand and looked at it: clean. Not even a speck of dust.

“Please,” Richardson said, hurrying to his dining room. “Call me Johnny. We are friends, are we not?” He let out a hearty chuckle and reached for two polished glasses. “Hold on, Doctor, I will be right back. Is there a certain drink you want today?”

“No,” Ross said, smiling coldly. “I’ve been trying to drink less. I don’t want anything messing with my head. My recent projects have been rather difficult, and I want a clear conscious as I work on them. I am afraid I will have to turn down your offer of a drink, although, I could go for some water.”

Johnny let out a chuckle. “I see, then,” he said. “Then I will have water as well. I wouldn’t want to make you feel like you were being left out.”

When he had returned with full glasses for the two of them, he slid one across the table to Ross with a nod. Then he took a sip of his own. Looking down at his drink, and then over to Johnny’s, Ross let the differences stand out clear. Looks like someone wasn’t truthful with him. Whatever, he thought with a smirk. It would only make things easier. Leaning forward on his elbows, Ross said, “I didn’t know you were a liar, Mr. Richardson—or, as you said I could, Johnny.”

“Ah,” Johnny said, taking another sip from his drink carefully. He smiled again. “I can see you're as observant as always. I never knew how you did it. Well, I just can’t resist sometimes, you know? Got to have my fix.”

“I see.” Ross swirled the water in his glass with an index finger, never keeping his gaze off of Johnny. “Is that why you’re sleeping with Mr. Jenkins’s wife?”

He choked on his drink, pounding his fist to his chest as he hacked. Ross laughed, quietly. “Don’t worry, Johnny, I won’t tell anyone. As you said, ‘Got to have my fix,’ and we all have our fixes. Mine includes stealing my co-worker’s food when I don’t feel like getting my own. I like the risk of getting caught more than I like the taste of anything bought myself, I suppose.”

“Yes, well,” Johnny said with a forced smile, his voice hoarse as he wiped his drink off of his mouth with a napkin. “You have always just known these things. Jenny’s a nice girl, but sometimes it just gets to be too much.”

“I see you have… spilled the rest of your drink.” Ross gestured to the liquid dripping from the table. “Want me to get you a refill?”

Johnny looked down, eyes squinting in confusion before they went wide again. “Shit!” he exclaimed, leaping up from his seat. “Oh, I apologize for my language, Doctor, but I hadn’t realized that I had done that. You’re comment really… really caught me off guard.” His forced smile spread out into a forced grin. “I will be right back with something to clean it up with, right back, I am so, so sorry for this.”

“It’s no problem at all,” Ross called to him as Johnny yelled back another, “I am so sorry, I will be right back!” down the hall.

And then, he slipped from his seat.

He knew where cleaning supplies were kept. It was in a room a bit down the hall that led to a different storage closet. That should give him enough time. Ross walked over to Johnny’s seat, observing the half-empty drink and the rest of it dripping onto their well-carpeted floor. What a disappointment. He liked this carpet. Ross skimmed the edge of Johnny’s glass with his finger as he shook his head. What a shame. Then, he walked back to his seat, his pockets lighter than they had been when he walked in.

Johnny came back as he sat down, armed with a towel. “I wish we could have talked under better circumstances,” he said as he scrubbed up his drink. “The night is young still, but I would like to apologize once more. I promise I’m as professional as I used to be.”

“Oh, I believe you,” Ross said as Johnny folded up the towel and set it on the table next to him, then returned to his seat, hair disheveled. “We all have our off days, do we not?” he added as Johnny took a long drink. He was inhaling heavily by the time he finished it—downing the risk of whatever liquor he had poured in it—and panting just slightly.

“Yeah, of course,” Johnny mumbled, coughing hard into his fist. “Sorry about that as well—my wife is convinced that I’m coming down with something but I tell her, ‘Tiff, darling, I’m all right! It’s just the stress!’”

He crossed his legs underneath the table. The buttons on the top of his shirt were coming undone. Ross narrowed his eyes. “Of course—your wife, the one you’re cheating on if I am correct?” Johnny choked on his breathing again. “Oh, relax, Richardson. Anyway, how have you been doing recently?”

“I’ve been doing fine,” Johnny said in a strangled voice. “I won’t be able to tell you much, but I’ve recently made a business venture. A very big one—big venture, big people behind it. Very good for me and my career, all of it.”

“Oh?” Ross raised his eyebrow. “Will you be able to tell me more, or is it classified?”

“Unfortunately, the rest is classified. I can tell you a few things, however: One, do not inform my wife of it. I’m planning on surprising her with the news. Two, it will stack even more money into my bank account, which is always a good thing. I may even start donating to charity. Three, it’s a collaboration between those ‘big people’ from before and my good friend, Charles Smith—you know him, right?—and—”

He kept fidgeting as he talked. First tugging at his tie, and then rolling his sleeves up and down, and then tapping his foot. He was starting to sweat, too, his skin taking on a reddish hue. If Ross knew any better, he would say that this man didn’t know how to hold his alcohol. He did know better, but it was a wonderful excuse.

Ross leaned forward. “Mr. Richardson, are you doing alright?” he asked in a low voice. Johnny jolted out of a thought, eyes going wide and pupils dilating.

“Yes—I-I’m fine, it’s just a little cold, I’m getting over it—” He was cut off by a fit of coughing so bad that he had to brace himself on the table as he waited for it to pass. But it didn’t pass. It just got worse until Johnny tried to stand up and instead fell out of his chair, collapsing onto the ground next to it.

“Goddammit—what, what is this?” he asked, tears filling his eyes, his voice starting to slur. “Doctor—Ross—call an ambulance, or nine-one-one, or something. I think—I think something’s gone wrong, ugh, I feel… I feel…”

Instead of calling anyone, Ross got out of his seat. Carefully pushed it back to where it was before he sat down. Picked up his glass and drained the rest of it. How refreshing. Then, he went to their kitchen and stacked it with the other glasses in the sink. For a rich family, they weren’t the best at managing their dishes. He scoffed as Johnny moaned for help in the other room, groaning and making weird gurgling sounds. “Richardson, you really need to start doing the dishes more. It’s a mess over here,” he said, unimpressed, over the harsh whispers of his name from the other room.

Then, Ross turned and walked back into the dining room. Johnny was on his hands and knees, coughing up blood on their nice carpet. His nose was streaming blood as well, and the veins in his neck popped out almost ghoulishly. That wasn’t a good thing, Ross thought as he walked over to the man and squatted down in front of him, tilting his head forward to get a good look at his eyes: Dilated so far it looked like his eyes were black. Hmm.

“What did you do to me?” Johnny rasped as Ross let his chin fall and let him resume coughing up blood in his dining room. He could clear up the space around where Johnny had fallen, but that might be just a little too suspicious.

“Just gave you a little dose of medicine,” Ross said, kicking away the hand that reached for him. “Don’t be a baby, it will all be over soon. You will see.”

As he turned, a different hand shot out and grabbed his pant leg, forcing him to turn back. Johnny stared up at him with blood dribbling down his chin, eyes glassy and unfocused, so bloodshot it almost hurt to look at them. But it didn’t, of course, because he was Doctor Ross. Nothing bothered him. “Please…,” Johnny moaned, tilting his head back to meet Ross’s eyes. “Please… I have a wife and children… please just call an ambulance… please… Doctor, we’ve been friends for years… won’t you do this for an old friend? Please? Please, Doctor, please please please just—just—just—”

“You mean the wife you’re cheating on?” Ross responded cruelly. “No, I don’t think that I feel like helping, right now. Look at the time—I need to get back to something. My apprentice, Jin, has requested my help with an essay that he’s writing.”

Then Ross left as Johnny spasmed on the floor behind him, letting out grueling shrieks and moans. Something splattered on the floor with a sickening noise and Ross did not turn to see what it was. He had already seen it enough with his mice and the other animals he had captured and experimented on. Same old, same old.

As he got into his car, someone rang his phone. And as he looked to see who the caller was, the name “Tiffany Richardson” lit up his phone. With a sigh, he pressed answer and held it to his ear with one hand, gripping the steering wheel with his other.

“Mrs. Richardson,” he said. “What ever would happen to grace me with your presence?”

She giggled on the other end of the phone. “Just checking in. We haven’t spoken to you in a while. Oh, Doctor Ross, it feels like forever since we have talked. My husband actually has been thinking about inviting you over for dinner one of these nights—if the opportunity came, would you be willing to join us? My daughter might even show off her project for the science fair.”

“I would love to come for dinner one of these nights, Mrs. Richardson,” he responded. “It would do me good to get out of the lab. And I bet your daughter’s project is as intriguing as the rest of her family is. But I didn’t know the wife of Mrs. Richardson would call me to ask me if I would like to have dinner—is there anything else you would like to discuss?”

“Oh.” She went quiet for a little bit. “Yes, unfortunately. Johnny hasn’t been answering my calls. I was wondering if you have heard anything—it seems that he only stops answering my calls when he’s in conversation with you or someone you know. Has he called any of you recently?”

“Not to my knowledge.” Ross flicked off a bug that was climbing up his arm. “I’ll check around if you want me to?”

“No, no,” Tiffany said, “I was just wondering. I’ll be home soon, anyway. It’s really been a ball talking to you again, but I should get back to keeping an eye on traffic. I’m holding you to that dinner promise!”

“I bet you will. Goodnight, Tiffany,” he said, then hung up. And then, starting up his car, he left the Richardson’s neighborhood and began driving back to the lab. After all, Jin needed help with an essay, and Johnny hadn’t answered the door when he rang. Whatever. He would be seeing him for dinner, later, would he not?


End file.
